


Iron is a Weakness

by Arkham_Cat



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:40:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27199315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arkham_Cat/pseuds/Arkham_Cat
Summary: The sword fell from the Witcher’s hand as he slid down the trunk of the closest tree. His eyes wide now in shock rather than fear.The bard's skin was no longer creamy pale but rather a glittering light purple.His ears were pointed, his eyes were now glowing but still crystal blue.There were now the remains of badly tattered wings on the Bard’s back.The monster lay dead at his feet.Killed by a few flashes of purple and green magic that Geralt knew to be Fae work.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 9
Kudos: 382





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I may or may not write a second chapter, we will see. This idea came from reading other Non Human Jaskier fics.
> 
> If you haven’t read it already I have a Siren Jaskier fic that I wrote a few months back, check it out if you like this trope. 
> 
> https://linktr.ee/kayceelain  
> Come visit me on my Socials too.

There was blood, so much blood.

That was all bright blue eyes could see as the bard looked over his Witcher’s prone body.  
The slight shift of his chest showed Geralt was still alive but for how much longer, Jaskier was not sure. His stomach had been injured badly.  
Both swords lay to the sides of the white haired man, out of his reach.

The monster they’d been contracted to kill growled loudly at the bard, still hovering over the Witcher’s body. 

“Ja sk ier…. r u n.” In a garbled voice, Geralt gave his companion that single command. His eyes that had been red now we’re shifting to their normal yellow.

If the bard ran, Geralt wouldn’t make it.  
He’d never again get to travel with the brooding Witcher he called friend.

If he stayed, the brunette could save him, and heal his friend.  
However his true nature would then be exposed and the chance of Geralt not wishing to keep him around afterwards were high, but at least he’d be alive.

With a whimper of silent distress, the bard dropped his lute, bag, and everything else he had been carrying then rushed forward to save the man he’d fallen in love with, whatever the cost.

As the bard's feet ran closer to Geralt and the monster above, the Witcher let out a distressed yell of “No!”. His yellow eyes wide in horror as the monster shifted to attack the brunette.  
———-  
The Witcher had been expecting more blood shed, instant death to his companion, as the monster was stronger than he’d even anticipated.

That’s why he had told the bard to stay back at camp.  
In case something went wrong.  
Geralt never liked the brunette coming on hunts, he always feared for the safety of his friend.

Here Jaskier was though, obviously he’d gotten worried or bored and came to see what had happened with the contract.

His blue eyes had looked so scared and sad when they met Geralts.

Geralt tried to tell him to run.  
He tried to get the bard to leave him behind and save his own hide, but the bard dropped everything and ran forward.

A death sentence.

Struggling despite the massive injuries and loss of blood, Geralt grabbed hold of one of his swords and attempted to save the Bard with his final breaths.

Coming to a stand on shaky legs, The Witcher moved forward.  
——  
What happened though was not what Geralt had expected.

The monster had charged Jaskier and he’d been sure the other man would have been screaming and bloody when he’d gotten over there, but instead as Geralt swayed uncertainty with pain he watched as Jaskier killed the monster himself.

The sword fell from the Witcher’s hand as he slid down the trunk of the closest tree. His eyes wide now in shock rather than fear.

The bard's skin was no longer creamy pale but rather a glittering light purple.  
His ears were pointed, his eyes were now glowing but still crystal blue.  
There were now the remains of badly tattered wings on the Bard’s back.

The monster lay dead at his feet.  
Killed by a few flashes of purple and green magic that Geralt knew to be Fae work. 

His bard was Fae, not human like he’d thought for so many years.

With that last thought and the image of Jaskier’s worried form running up to him, the Witcher fell unconscious from blood loss.  
———  
It had been an easy kill really.  
Once Jaskier allowed his true form forward and let his powers flow, the monster had been victim to his abilities. 

After the creature fell, the bard moved as quick as he could to his Witcher’s side. He saw from the corner of his eye, Geralt had moved closer.  
The Witcher was ever stubborn.

Once at his side, the bard let magic flow from his fingertips and out onto the unconscious man. 

Glowing blue eyes watched as the wounds closed up as if they’d never been there in the first place.  
A deep sigh of relief left the bard's chest.

If Geralt had died, Jaskier would never be able to forgive himself.

Over the years they’d been together, the brunette had grown feelings for the Witcher. At first they had certainly not been the closest of friends. In Fact they hadn't been friends at all. However somewhere over the years they'd grown closer and feelings stirred up between them. 

Lost in thought, the bard hadn’t seen piercing yellow eyes blink open. Nor did he notice the witcher's intense stare until the other man’s voice startled him.

“Jaskier...” The witcher’s tone was clouded with strangled emotion.  
Emotions, Jaskier feared to unreveal. 

“Geralt… How are you feeling?”

In response the bard received a half amused snort before the witcher talked more. “Like I was almost killed and brought back.”

Nervous laughter left the brunet at the other’s comment. 

“Yes, well. I’m sure that doesn't feel particularly nice. Perhaps we should make our way ba-” The haphazard words were stopped by a firm hand laying itself over the bards arm. Those piercing yellow eyes silently telling him to be quiet.  
To many's surprise, Jaskier did know when it was important to be quiet. 

Biting his lip and bowing his head in shame, the bard fell silent.  
There was no covering up what had been revealed to the witcher, nor any distraction from that fact. 

Whatever was to come with this new information would happen tonight.

“Geralt... I’m sorry…”  
He wasn’t sure what else to say.  
He was sorry.

Sorry for hiding it.  
Sorry for what he was.  
Sorry for what Geralt would have to do.

“For hiding this from me?” Rumbled the Witcher, eyebrow raising in question.

Jaskier swallowed around the lump forming in his throat, looking pointedly anywhere but his companion.  
“Yes… for hiding it.”

A “Hmmf” was the only response.

Shifting from beside him, broke Jaskier from his intense stare down with a tree. Geralt had stood and was now making his way to collect his fallen armor pieces and weaponry.

Inhaling sharply, Jaskier watched as his friend picked up his second sword that had fallen at the beginning of the battle.  
The Witcher then twirled it once before placing both swords into their sheaths.  
He then began to walk away until the realization that Jaskier was not following hit. 

“Are you coming?”  
The Witcher’s Voice sounded gravely with annoyance but it did break the bard from his daze. 

“Um, where are we going?” Asked the bard shakily, almost fearing the answer.

Geralt had come to a full stop now. His face masked with confusion.  
“Back to the inn? We need to talk and we both need a bath after that fight ” 

Standing on shaky legs, the bard inched forward to his companion.  
Each step felt like a death sentence, like the very gravity of the planet was pulling him down and in.

“So you’re not going to kill me?” It was asked in the softest voice Geralt had ever heard Jaskier speak in. So quiet and scared.  
So hurt.

Those words had taken the Witcher by surprise, in no world had he ever dreamed of hurting the bard. Human or not.  
Jaskier had never hurt anyone, not unless they deserved it.

Truth be told, he’d guessed his over energetic partner wasn’t entirely human as he’d said, for some time now.  
He never aged and wounds seemed to heal within a day.

Apparently the silence had grown on too long for the brunette because he’d begun to fidget and ramble nervously under the Witcher’s intense gaze.

“Iron… Iron makes fae weak, if you want to end me I’d really prefer if you got it over with an-“

“Jaskier!” Cutting off the rambling, Geralt couldn’t hear anymore.  
With just a few short determined steps he was standing in front of the smaller man.  
His battle worn hands rose to grip each shoulder firmly, drawing the board’s attention upward.

Fear was the loudest emotion swirling in his blue eyes.  
The glamour covered his natural purple glint well, however now that Geralt knew it was there, he could see the gentle shine of fea skin. 

“I’m not going to hurt you, Jaskier. Least of all kill you.”  
Normally emotions were not easy for the Witcher to express, but this came easy.  
“I don’t care what you are. You've come to be important to me, I could never hurt you for something as frivolous as your race.”

The entire time Geralt had been speaking Jaskier’s eyes had been locked with the Witcher’s piercing yellow ones, intent on finding any hidden lie.  
He found none.

“You’re important to me as well, very much actually. So, please don’t make me leave your side, either.”

Geralt chuckled low, one hand rising to cup the bard's cheek.  
“I won’t make you leave my side. You may stay as long as you like, come and go as you like, but I will not force you either way.”

Jaskier gasped softly, his eyes watering up at his Witcher’s sincere and emotion filled words.  
Emotions very few were allowed to see, and now he was one of those few.

That simple fact clenched the bard hard in a way that reminded him of exactly why he’d fallen in love with the larger man.

Without thinking, Jaskier threw himself into the taller man's chest, his arms wrapping tightly around.  
With mild hesitation Geralt hugged him back, resting his chin protectively atop the brunette’s silken hair. 

The two remained like that in the quiet of the forest for a time before separating and making their way to the Inn where they both bathed off the blood and grime of the forest battle.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “To whatever end.”  
> ― Sarah J. Maas, Queen of Shadows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is one of my most favorite works, I hope this second chapter is enjoyed!
> 
> https://linktr.ee/kayceelain  
> Come follow me on the things!!

They hadn’t spoken much the entire walk home. However it was not an off putting silence. Comfortable and comforting, like a hug.  
Namely, the hug Geralt had shared with Jaskier in the forest before their trek back to the inn.

Once inside the warm confines of their shared room, Geralt and Jaskier rid themselves of their battered and bloodied armor and clothing. All articles left in a heap in the corner of the room to later be dealt with or simply tossed out. 

Afterwards, Geralt instructed Jaskier to bathe first. His voice gentle but commanding in the otherwise silent room.  
The water, still steaming in wisps of mist as the bard carefully stepped inside. 

Unable to surpass the deep sigh that left his throat as he sunk into the heated water. The biting warmth easing away the aches of battle and opened wounds of old. 

With care, the Witcher helped his companion to wash. As the bard did for him many times.

After the healing the bard had used fully set in, combined with the Witcher’s own fast healing, Geralt was good as new.

His bard on the other hand was more battered then acceptable.  
Fae while healed faster than humans, were certainly not as fast as Witchers.

Looking over the bard as he gently cleaned off the grime and blood that had caked on from the night's events, yellow eyes lost themselves in watching the shimmering purple carefully hidden under glamour.

It truly amazed Geralt that he hadn’t noticed it before.

He’d suspected that Jaskier wasn’t entirely human, yes but he’d never noticed the shimmer under the man's careful glamour.  
He’d noticed the persistent youthfulness, and long life span, but had never made the right connections.

He’d thought the bard was either part elf, or had gotten a youth spell cast on his prized looks.

He'd never figured, Fae. 

Laying a heavy but comforting hand on the bard's naked shoulder, Gerlet murmured quietly to the other. Hoping to eliminate his usual gruffness.

“You’re quieter than usual.” 

Nervously, Jaskier chuckled as he turned to look up into piercing yellow eyes.  
He’d felt the gaze lingering over him for longer than necessary.  
It had put him on edge.

Even though it was Geralt, who had promised to not hurt him. The anxiety bubbling under the bards skin threatened to spill over. 

“Suppose I am… A lot on my mind, my love.” 

Greralt hummed in acknowledgement, he was never good with words but the need to care for the other man was great.

“You can talk to me, Jaskier.”  
The Witcher then set to help the shorter male out of the bath and over to their shared bed.

The emotion the white wolf had put into that declaration had warmed Jaskier to the core. For a man of few words, the ones Geralt chose to say hit their mark almost every time.

“....Thank you.” He whispered as the Witcher helped him cover the few wounds he’d received in battle, then dress.  
Even though he’d hardly been hurt, the shock and use of his powers had drained the brunette greatly.

Healing a Witcher from near death really took a lot out of you.

“No need. Now rest until I return. I’m going to wash up and change.”  
Geralt then lent down and pressed a kiss to the bard's lips, afterward nuzzling the side of the smaller man's face gently. 

The wolf like action elicited a chorus of pure laughter from the bard, his eyes meeting Geralts with true delight. 

“Rest.”  
Repeated the Witcher with a smile saved only for the bard's eyes.  
After Jaskier had settled into the bedsheets, and closed his eyes, Geralt moved away. Content his bard would rest.

He’d rid himself of the filth from the day before retiring himself.  
It didn’t take long to scrub himself clean and then redress in simple cloths, but enough time that Geralt had been sure Jaskier would have fallen asleep.

He was incorrect.

Once the Witcher settled into the bed behind Jaskier, the bard immediately rolled into his partner’s broad chest, his arms winding around the Witcher’s waist tight as a Vice. 

Geralt couldn’t surpass the low chuckle as he pulled the bard in close.

“You’re clingy.” 

“And you’re not complaining.” Grumbled Jaskier in a groggy voice.

“Sleep, Jaskier.” Gently ordered the Witcher.

Jaskier shook his head in disagreement however, his crystal blue eyes looking up to meet Geralt's yellow ones.  
“No, not yet… I… I have some things to say first.”

“Alright.”  
Geralt maneuvered himself along with Jaskier so that they were both sitting up against the headboard, the bard remaining snug in the arms of his Witcher.

Shifting closer to the larger man, the bard contemplated exactly how to start his tale. Finally settling on starting at the beginning.

“When I was young, I was abandoned. My father was human, my mother was Fae. Neither wanted me, I learned that fact later through acquaintances of both parties.”

Geralt growled lowly, his anger flaring towards those who would abandon someone so wonderful as the bard in his arms.  
His hold grew ever so tighter, as he laid his chin protectively atop the bard soft tresses. 

“I lived with my court for some time, until I was old enough to know the want for adventure. Once I felt the urge I left home, and left forever. No one leaves the Dandelion Court without permission and returns.”

Jaskier gave a short laugh that lacked humor. 

“I traveled for some time, learned of a new love for music and song. I even learned how to play a few instruments, the lute ended up being my favorite. I had an ill conceived notion that the world outside the court was beautiful and wondrous, until the day I got myself netted by a hunter.”

The growling that had subsided started up once more, only this time louder.  
Images of Jaskier’s tattered wings flashing in the Witcher’s mind. 

“Flew right into an iron net, it had been hidden so you couldn't immediately see it in the path. My wings got caught up in the iron, and my power drained. I saw him, the hunter very briefly. Apparently I hadn’t been the only one to stupidly fly right into a trap. He’d been planning on taking our wings, some witches pay a hefty price for fea wings, don’t you know?” 

Jaskier had to stop talking after that, Geralt’s growling had intensified louder and his eyes flashed dangerously.  
Gently, the bard laid his hands on the Witcher’s chest, leaning up to meet his partners lips, even with his teeth bared. 

Geralt never scared him, not even when they’d first met all those years ago in that tavern.

The growling subsided once more after some time, and Geralt captured Jaskier’s lips, returning the attempted kiss.

A calm fell over the two, each taking comfort in the other's presence.  
The anger quelling in the Witcher’s chest, and the cold fear of memories subsiding in the bard. 

Once they parted, Jaskier cupped a hand over the white wolf’s cheek.

“I escaped after that, I didn’t want to die a capture, I didn’t want to become some ingredient to some witches potion or spell. So…” 

Taking in a deep breath, Jaskier allowed the glamour to fade away.  
The tattered wings spread outward above head, over both men as they laid together on the bed. 

“I ripped myself free of the iron, even though it tore through my wings, shredding them with each pull and twist I made. I didn’t care. I had to get free.”

A shuddering sob like sound left the bards lip, emotions welling up like horses running free from their stables.

Geralt lifted a hand up to gently trace over the tattered remains of his partners wings, trailing carefully over the intricate patterns and colors but ever mindful of the tattered ends. The touch caused electric shivers to ripple through Jaskier’s body, the Witcher was the first person to actually touch his wings with care rather than harsh anger or curlety. 

Voice strangled, the bard continued with his story, needing to get the pain of his experience out into open air.  
There were a select few songs that contained his pain and hurt over everything he’d been through and lost, but they never told the entire story, only bits here and there. Nothing that would give way to what he was.

“When I got free, I fell to the ground. I couldn’t catch myself in flight, it hurt too badly. So I fell to the ground. I let my form change to human size and glamourd myself with what power I had left. Then I ran as far as I could. I ran, and I ran, until I passed out from the pain. Eventually I woke back up, and most of my wounds had healed but my wings… well you can see.” 

At the end of his tale, Jaskier trailed off looking forlornly into the distance. Quietly, he murmured something Geralt was sure had not been meant for him to hear.

“They were beautiful...”

“Jaskier.” The Witcher chided softly, mirroring the bard's earlier action by placing his hand around the others cheek, gently turning his face to meet Geralt's stern amber gaze. 

“They’re still beautiful, Jask. They’re still beautiful.” 

Jaskier was completely caught off guard, a startled gasp mixed with a choked sob answered the Witcher’s sincerity.

“Geralt?”  
The Witcher gave only a small smile in answer, wiping the freely falling tears from his glittering blue eyes. 

“Even ripped to shreds?” Voice almost a whisper, clouded in doubt and self hatred.

“Yes, Jaskier. Even as they are now.”  
Few in words yet dripping with the very sincerity Jaskier desperately needed.  
Moving on instinct alone, Geralt lent down once more, sealing his words with an action as true and sincere as his words were.

“I love you.” Jaskier whispered against the Witcher lips.  
There was no fear of the feeling not being mutual.

“I love you too, Little lark.”  
Geralt pulled the bard snug against his chest, his hands trailing gently over the others lithe back and up over his wings with delicate care.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!!!


End file.
